Thanksgiving Day grows closer. And this is what Thanksgiving means to me. I hope you will indulge me as I share this story. My Thanksgiving brings with it a golden brown turkey with gravy and turkey giblets and sage filled dressing with onions and celery. Sweet potatoes hot out of the oven with a lightly toasted marshmallow topping and perhaps scattered walnuts will be served. Mashed potatoes and green beans and perhaps even a fruit salad too.
Least I forget dessert, no doubt the star will be pumpkin pie, warm out of the oven, wafting hints of pumpkin and cinnamon, filling the air. The mild hint of brown crusted dough and perhaps a simple dollop of whipped cream melt down the side as my fork cuts through.
Before dinner . . . before the turkey, before the dressing, comes the preparation. Our Thanksgiving table will be donned with a beautiful tablecloth of soft gold and brown hues and adorned with rustic red dinnerware. Each place setting carefully positioned around the Thanksgiving table. Dinner's guests will gather in the kitchen around the counter each filling their plates with delicious Thanksgiving fixings. Plates filled with heaping spoonfulls, each of us will retreat to the dining room and take our seat around the table. Thankful for this wonderful meal and yet another Thanksgiving, the chatter begins as every one partakes in this year's Thanksgiving feast. Stories of by gone days and wishes and hopes of what the coming Christmas season will bring fill the room.
Every Thanksgiving my younger sister spends countless hours cooking, baking, roasting, decorating and place setting. As each of us arrive at her door, we are graciously greeted and Thankgiving Day commences. Yet, I realize every year how much work and effort goes into this fabulous meal and, oftentimes, I wonder how she manages to do it all, with such perfection. This meal shared by family. This younger sister who wasn't supposed to be as the doctors informed my Mother that she was too weak to bear another child. I knew she was coming as my Mother had told me of her coming that day in the back yard of our small home in Louisville. I sat on the swing still as my Mother approached. She told me A baby would be born in a few short months. I was ready. Adults were anxious. Not sure if this baby or my Mother would survive. And yet the day came and my Mother did give birth. And I had a younger sister, and after many months of recovery, my Mother grew strong again. And so today I dedicate this Thanksgiving Story to my younger sister. ENJOY!
Least I forget dessert, no doubt the star will be pumpkin pie, warm out of the oven, wafting hints of pumpkin and cinnamon, filling the air. The mild hint of brown crusted dough and perhaps a simple dollop of whipped cream melt down the side as my fork cuts through.
Before dinner . . . before the turkey, before the dressing, comes the preparation. Our Thanksgiving table will be donned with a beautiful tablecloth of soft gold and brown hues and adorned with rustic red dinnerware. Each place setting carefully positioned around the Thanksgiving table. Dinner's guests will gather in the kitchen around the counter each filling their plates with delicious Thanksgiving fixings. Plates filled with heaping spoonfulls, each of us will retreat to the dining room and take our seat around the table. Thankful for this wonderful meal and yet another Thanksgiving, the chatter begins as every one partakes in this year's Thanksgiving feast. Stories of by gone days and wishes and hopes of what the coming Christmas season will bring fill the room.
Every Thanksgiving my younger sister spends countless hours cooking, baking, roasting, decorating and place setting. As each of us arrive at her door, we are graciously greeted and Thankgiving Day commences. Yet, I realize every year how much work and effort goes into this fabulous meal and, oftentimes, I wonder how she manages to do it all, with such perfection. This meal shared by family. This younger sister who wasn't supposed to be as the doctors informed my Mother that she was too weak to bear another child. I knew she was coming as my Mother had told me of her coming that day in the back yard of our small home in Louisville. I sat on the swing still as my Mother approached. She told me A baby would be born in a few short months. I was ready. Adults were anxious. Not sure if this baby or my Mother would survive. And yet the day came and my Mother did give birth. And I had a younger sister, and after many months of recovery, my Mother grew strong again. And so today I dedicate this Thanksgiving Story to my younger sister. ENJOY!
It all sounds so wonderful Carol. And what a miracle your little sister will share this coming Thanksgiving holiday with you and all the family. A blessed time for all.
ReplyDeleteLovely words from your heart, and from down here I too send all wishes to you and your family, Enjoy the fabulous meal, prepared by an equally fabulous sister. Greetings to all,. Jean.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely post... full of new and old memories...!
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